


Jumping to Conclusions

by DualWieldingCousland (DualWieldingMama)



Series: The Other Regan [23]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 05:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4907560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWieldingMama/pseuds/DualWieldingCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen, Regan, and two of her siblings have finally made it back to Skyhold.  They’d planned on having at least a day or two to relax, but someone has other ideas.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And This is Where We Jump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regan learns that she does not handle certain feelings well when it comes to the Commander.

“Lady Inquisitor!”  Margot ran up to the hart as soon as it passed through Skyhold’s gates.  She nodded toward Cullen, but barely acknowledged the two strangers, focusing on the message she was sent to deliver.  “A woman claiming to be a Trevelyan arrived two days ago asking to speak with you.  She’s currently in the library with Master Pavus.”

“Does Dorian _seriously_ make you call him that, Margot?” Regan asked as she swung herself out of the saddle.  Aaron, Gabriel and Cullen quickly followed suit, with the latter silently taking Thranduil’s reins from her hand and leading both mounts back to the stables.  She gave him a quick smile and turned her attention back to the runner, curious as to who the woman was.

“No, my lady,” Margot replied quickly.  “She did; insisted I refer to him as such, and her as Lady Trevelyan or ‘her ladyship’.”  Margot frowned, wondering if she would get in trouble for speaking her mind.  Thus far, the Inquisitor had been fairly relaxed, treating her almost as a friend rather than a simple runner.  But say the wrong thing, and she was sure all that could change.  “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but … there’s something about her that just seems … wrong. Lady Leliana sees it too.”

“Not Weslyn, then,” Regan murmured, glancing back at her brothers. “She’d die before doing anything that seemed ‘wrong’.”  She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or not that her sister hadn’t arrived unannounced.  She missed her sister, but she knew that too much family at once could be … stressful.  It had been bad enough when her parents had shown up.  “Did she ever give her full name, or has she constantly referred to herself as Lady Trevelyan?”  How many relatives did she have that might be this woman?  And was she _really_ a relative at all?  When Margot shook her head, she sighed.  “Well, then … Gabriel, you’re probably the most likeable member of our family.  Care to follow Margot here and see if you can figure out which relative this is?  I need to help Cullen deal with the mounts, and then I’ll be along.”

Gabriel nodded, bowing theatrically to Margot as an introduction, grinning at the slight flush that colored her cheeks.  “It would be my honor, dear sister.  Might Aaron accompany me, just in case she is less honorable than she’s playing at?”  When both Regan and Aaron nodded, the two brothers followed the runner toward the keep, and she turned to jog toward the stables.

He was nearing the end of his routine with Angel, letting his mind drift.  He had known she’d be swept up in some sort of issue not long after returning home.  It was a normal occurrence, anymore.  He had just hoped they might have a few moments together.  She had … claimed him; called him hers; he had felt his heart still for a moment when those words passed her lips, wanting nothing more than to simply wrap her in his arms then and there.  He sadly hadn’t had the chance, and now it looked like it would be a while before they could find time to be together again.  He kicked a fencepost in frustration, wishing he … they … had more time.

“What’d that piece of wood do to you?” Regan teased, sneaking up behind him.  He felt her press against his back and suddenly wished he wasn’t wearing so much armor.  “I … um, well it … I mean ….”  He couldn’t find a witty comeback and just sighed quietly as she slipped around to nestle into his arms.  This was where he belonged.  “I just wish we could have more time ….”

“I know, Cullen.”  Regan leaned in to kiss his nose.  “Tell you what; I’ll meet you in your office tonight for dinner.  We can lock the doors and talk or play chess or whatever you’d like.  We won’t be leaving for the Winter Palace for at least two weeks, partially thanks to our unannounced visitor.”  She closed her eyes as he leaned in, buried his nose in her hair.  She felt his arms tighten around her, holding her against the cool metal of his breastplate.  

“I would be honored,” he whispered, lifting her chin.  He smiled as he watched her tongue dart out to lick her lips, then brushed gentle kisses against them until she pulled him in, all but claiming his mouth with a growl.  He really should just tell her how he felt.  She deserved to know how she made him feel, what she made him think was possible … what she made him wish for.  Perhaps that evening, after dinner?

She eventually pushed back, surprised to find that sometime during the kiss he had picked her up.  Her legs were wrapped around his waist, arms flung over his shoulders, body pressed close.  When had that happened?  Regan chewed on her lower lip, smiling awkwardly as she noticed something pressing against her.  She could feel her cheeks grow warm as she slowly maneuvered her way back to the ground.  “I … when did … um, I will see you tonight, then, Cullen,” she finally whispered.  She turned and darted away, torn between embarrassment and eagerness.

*********************************************************************************************

“So it looks like the mysterious arrival claims to be our dear cousin Olivia Trevelyan.”  Gabriel leaned against one of the bookshelves in Regan’s room, filling her in on what he managed to pry out of their supposed cousin.  “She says she’s here to catch up, since it’s been _so_ long.  And she claims to have brought a gift for you -.”

“I don’t trust her,” Aaron interrupted, resting his hands on Regan’s desk.  “You should send her packing, and quickly.”  He couldn’t explain what it was about her that he didn’t trust, but something told him she was trouble.  Perhaps it was the fact that he didn’t remember ever meeting any relative by that name.  

“I don’t recall ever meeting a cousin Olivia.”  Regan flopped back on her bed and sighed.  “When we were still at Haven, there were relatives claiming close ties to the Inquisition, trying to use it as leverage.  I’ll bet she was one of them.”  She shoved fingers through her hair roughly before sitting back up.  “If you think she’s that … dangerous I will likely send her on her way in the morning.  I’m supposed to have dinner with Cullen tonight, and I don’t particularly want to be late.”

“Cullen, hmm?”  Gabriel waggled his eyebrows at her, not bothering to hide the teasing grin.  “Not ‘the Commander’, or even ‘Commander Cullen’?  Has our dear little sister _finally_ met someone she deems worthy?”  He remembered multiple letters complaining about men their mother tried to pair her up with.  Her fondness with the man who’d been at her side in Redcliff was easy to see, and he found the blush that colored her cheeks every time his name came up to be adorable.

“He is certainly not someone mother would approve of,” Aaron smirked.  While he _was_ the eldest and felt it was his duty to provide a mature example for his younger siblings, he couldn’t help but want to tease his baby sister a little bit.  Of course, he was also sorely tempted to play the protective older brother and threaten any suitor with bodily harm should they hurt her.  “No title, little more than a commoner.  Not that I mind, of course.  Mother’s ideas of the perfect match usually leave much to be desired.”

“Oh hush, both of you.”  Regan flung a pillow at Aaron, belatedly worrying about the stacks of parchment on her desk.  “I already heard all about how wrong he is from mother when she was here.  And I’ll tell you the same thing I told her.  I. Don’t. Care.”

Aaron caught the pillow easily, tossing it to Gabriel.  “He’s not after you for your title … titles, is he?”  He hated to be the one to voice the suspicion, but even as a templar he’d been subjected to women chasing after him because of his family’s status.  There was always a chance that the Commander would do the same.  “Hate me for asking if you want, but you _know_ it has to be considered.”

“Oh, pish.”  Regan dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand.  “Cullen has no more interest in titles than you do in women.”  She sighed, glancing from brother to brother.  She knew they meant well.  It was understandable that they’d be concerned.  Her history with men ran in two channels that her siblings knew of – the ones she sparred with and the ones she flat out rejected.  Her sparring partners were always common folk, or the family knights.  She rarely expressed interest in any of them, save for swordplay.  The men her mother found always seemed to be the type of noble that felt women should be kept sheltered and cater to their husband’s wants.  But Cullen wasn’t like either group.  He’d proven that a hundred times over so far.

“Such language,” Gabriel gasped, feigning offense.  “Is that what your dear commander has been teaching you?”

“Nope; that’s all Sera.”  Regan eyed the mage carefully, waiting for the flying pillow she was sure would come.  “Watch out for her; she likes playing tricks on people.  Nothing malicious, mind you – just … enough to knock you down a peg or two.”  

“Anyone else we should watch out for?”  Leave it to Aaron to latch onto that.  “Anyone in the group particularly antagonistic to either mages or templars?”  

“Not really,” Regan shrugged, looking over at him.  “We have both running around the grounds, anyway.  And everyone will be nicer to you two than normal, since you’re related to the Inquisitor.”  She moved to her feet and shooed the pair of them out ahead of her.  “Of course, that’s probably what this Olivia person is counting on too.  I suppose I should at least go meet her before running her off.”

*********************************************************************************************

Well, that had been … unproductive.  The meeting with the mysterious Olivia Trevelyan had been short and completely unhelpful.  The only thing Regan had really noticed was the faint Orlesian or Antivan accent in a woman who claimed to be a born & raised Marcher.  For someone who had said she was there to speak with the Inquisitor, the woman had said almost nothing, excusing herself after only a few minutes of unimportant chatting.  

Now, a few hours later, she was headed toward Cullen’s office, carrying a tray laden with food for the pair.  The kitchen staff had done their best to ensure both would be well fed, and the weight of the tray made for slow going, especially since she knew there were going to be stairs once she’d made it past the stables.  Since she was being far more careful of her surroundings than normal, she noticed a couple making their way along the path from the main hall towards Cullen’s office.  She didn’t immediately recognize the woman in the form-fitting dress, but the man she’d know anywhere – even if she hadn’t become nearly hyper-aware of his presence, she’d know that furred surcoat in a heartbeat.  The woman’s quick glance in her general direction gave Regan just enough time to realize who it was, and her heart plummeted.

Cullen had been _trying_ to get to his office in time to at least remove some of his armor before _she_ showed up.  He had been looking forward to dinner ever since Regan had suggested they spend it together; he had been able to think of nothing else.  But just before he could make his way there from last meeting, the young woman claiming to be a cousin of the Inquisitor had latched onto him and hadn’t let go.  His upbringing, and the possibility that the woman might have Regan’s ear, prevented him from simply telling her to bugger off, especially since she said she needed to discuss something about the Inquisitor.  Which was why they were headed toward his office; he just hoped he could shoo her away in time.  And why was she clinging to him so?

Regan just stared, not wanting to accept what her eyes were telling her.  Had he so quickly lost interest?  Well, why _would_ he be interested in her when there was someone who filled out a dress so much better than she did around?  Was that really the type of man he was?  She had been so sure he was different.  Had she been wrong?  She didn’t _think_ she was wrong, didn’t think he would treat her that way.  But why else would he be escorting _her_ to his office?  She wanted to scream.  She wanted to storm up those steps, burst into his office, throw the food at her and then physically pull her away from him.  She wanted to throw the food at both of them.  She wanted to just throw the food.  She wanted to place the food outside the door and slink off.  OK, she didn’t know what she wanted; all these thoughts passed through her mind within about three seconds.  Feeling suddenly ill, she passed the tray off to James, directing him to Cullen’s office. She then turned and walked away, heading for her room; she passed Gabriel and Aaron in the main hall.

“Aren’t you supposed to be …?”  The look on Regan’s face made Gabriel swallow the rest of his question.  He simply fell in step beside her as they made their way to her chambers, pulling Aaron along with them.  He wished he had the same connection to her that Tristan did; the twins always seemed to be able to tell what was wrong with the other.  Instead, he had to rely on whatever information he could actually pry from her.  When they finally got behind the last door to her chambers, he sat her down on the sofa and dropped to his knees in front of her.  “Alright, what’s wrong?  You’re supposed to be happily having dinner with your Commander, aren’t you?”

“Olivia beat me to it,” she whispered, looking away.  She didn’t really want to talk about it, didn’t want to think about it.  She just wanted to hide.  Maker, everyone in the Keep would know by morning.  They’d all seen that kiss on the battlements and every time she had to ride out, and everyone would have seen the way he and Olivia were clinging so tightly to each other now.  

“Wait, did you say what I think you said?”  Aaron had to bite back a curse when she nodded, shoving away from the wall.  “I will be right back,” he promised, and all but tore down the steps and out the door.  

Gabriel frowned, moving to sit next to his sister, waiting for the apparent shock to wear off.  “There has to be an explanation,” he offered, hugging her.  “I simply can’t believe he would drop you for her, especially not after seeing how he all but worshiped the ground you walked on in Redcliff.”  Where had Aaron gone?  Not that the templar was any more equipped to deal with an upset sister, but he’d had more experience with their siblings and heartbreak, hadn’t he?  The only exposure Gabriel had to such things was in the Circle, and that had a whole different set of rules.

*********************************************************************************************

Cullen practically shoved her away for what seemed like the hundredth time.  Whoever this Trevelyan was, she seemed to have a very difficult time with the word ‘No’.  And why hadn’t _his_ Trevelyan shown up yet?  He was certain that as soon as the Inquisitor came through his door, this … invader … would leave.  A knock at the door gave him an excuse to put some distance between them.  It had to be her, right?  He swung the door open, the welcoming smile on his face sliding into a confused frown when he realized it was just a runner with a platter of food.  Was she delayed?

“Commander,” James, began hesitantly.  “Lady Re … Inquisitor Trevelyan … um, asked me to deliver this to you.”  He held the tray out, nervously watching as Cullen stared at him.  When the commander asked if she would be along soon, he gulped and shook his head.  “I … I believe the Inquisitor said she was … retiring to her chambers; something about losing her appetite?”

Cullen plucked the tray from the runner’s hands and watched as he practically scrambled away, almost falling down the nearby stairs.  She wasn’t coming?  Had she suddenly taken ill?  Had she somehow decided she no longer wanted him?  But there was more than enough food on the tray for two.  If she _had_ decided she no longer wanted to spend time with him, wouldn’t she have at least taken her own dinner before sending this along?  He stood in the open doorway, just staring at the tray for Maker only knew how long.  Olivia called out to him, trying to coax him back inside, but it was as if he didn’t hear.  

He pulled his attention away from the platter just in time to see a fist flying toward his face.  He was not, however, fast enough to process what he was seeing.  The fist connected with his nose; the impact caused the tray to drop as his hands flew up to try and fend off a potential second shot.  That was Aaron, wasn’t it?  Regan’s eldest brother had just _hit_ him!  Why had … what was going on?  Had everyone gone insane?

“ _That_ is for hurting my sister,” Aaron snarled before turning on his heel and stalking away.  It wasn’t the most ideal way of dealing with the issue, but it made him feel better.  Regan would probably have choice words for him when she heard about it, though.  She was too nice, sometimes.  He all but grabbed a nearby runner – the same poor man, again - and suggested they send a healer to Commander Cullen’s office; he implied that the commander might have taken ill.  He may have wanted to punish the man for hurting his sister, but that didn’t mean he wanted the whole keep talking about it any more than they already would.  

Cullen stood there, his hands covering his bloodied nose, stunned.  Regan’s brother had just hit him, hard.  Not enough to break his nose, he didn’t think, but certainly enough to bloody it.  Maker’s breath, what had he done to deserve ….  Wait, the tray of food - she would have been coming from the kitchens … had a perfect view of the battlements, every walkway leading to his office.  She would have had an unobstructed view of ….  Andraste’s ass!   _That_ had to have been why the visiting Trevelyan had insisted on walking on his left side, making sure anyone … making sure she could see her.  That would explain why the blasted woman was so dressed up, why she clung so tightly to his arm.  She had planned this all.  “Get out,” he growled softly, not turning around.

“Commander, are you alright?”  Olivia did her best to sound concerned, gracefully rising from the chair and starting toward him.  “Is anything the matter, good ser?”  She still received no response, so she ventured closer, sounding as flirty as ever.  “Commander Cul – “  

“Get.  Out.”  He whirled around, making sure to keep his bloody nose as covered as possible.  He didn’t want anyone insinuating that he’d done something to bloody _her_ , though he felt she would deserve it.  His heart felt like lead.  He would have to inform Leliana and Josephine of the … of the events.  Was there anywhere this woman had been allowed without some sort of chaperone?  Was there anything she could have seen that she shouldn’t?  “Leave my office, now.  Leave Skyhold, today.  And do not come back.”  He stood back from the door, arms now crossed over his chest so she could see the amount of blood spilled so far.  He ignored her sputtering protests as she finally left, then slammed the door behind her, locking it.  He moved to lock the other doors as well and slumped into his chair.  “Maker, what can I do ….”


	2. Failure to Think Things Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regan probably shouldn't make decisions when she's upset; they never end up being the smartest of plans. Aaron decides that NOW is the time to be the over-protective brother, and he has no plans to listen to anyone's excuses. Gabriel and Aaron bicker like, well, siblings. And Dorian & Bull join in a search.

“I just … I _can’t_ stay here right now.” Regan tucked a few supplies into a small sack before buckling on the last of the Antaam-saar, the light qunari armor she’d been gifted when the subject of an alliance had first been brought up. It revealed more than she was normally comfortable with, but she had already decided against the armor she usually wore while on Inquisition business, or even the rather non-descript Inquisition scout’s armor. She didn’t want anyone knowing she was the Inquisitor when she left, not proclaim her presence to anyone that might look her way. While that was somewhat counterintuitive, given the nature of the armor, she knew no one would _expect_ her to parade around in it, so they were likely to pass her off as a crack pot. If her hair hadn’t already been _so_ short, she probably would have chopped it off to increase the effectiveness of disguise. “I need … I need to get away for a couple days, that’s all.” She could feel Gabriel’s eyes on her, watching as she moved back and forth in her chamber, and she knew she only had a slim chance of sneaking out without at least one of them coming with her.

“It’s only been a _day_ ,” he protested, wishing she would consider waiting at least another day or two before heading off to ‘think’. “At _least_ bring someone with you?” Gabriel sighed, wondering if he knew a strong enough spell to just keep her rooted to the spot for a while. Ice spells would do no good; he didn’t want to _hurt_ her. He just wanted her to wait until she had a clearer head. But waiting had never been her strong suit. The only one who ever _could_ get her to slow down, not be so impulsive when she was upset, was her twin. “Aaron or I could go with you? Watch your back; you might remember we’ve been dodging the whole rebellion thing for a while. I think we can handle a little roughing it.”

Regan just shook her head, pursing her lips as she ran through her mental list one more time. “I appreciate it, Gabe. Really, I do. But no.” Swinging the sack over one shoulder, she gave her brother a half-smile. “I’ll be fine. I just … I need to … I need to clear my head, get some … distance from everything.” She glanced at the stairs, knowing it would be near impossible, even in the unfamiliar armor that only a handful of people had seen, to slip out of the Inquisitor’s quarters unnoticed. She was glad Aaron hadn’t made it back from wherever he’d disappeared to yet; he’d certainly try to stop her.

“Distance is all fine and dandy, but there _are_ people out there that kind of want you dead!” Where the blazes was Aaron? He’d just pluck her up and lock her in the closet until she calmed down. He watched as she grabbed a coil of rope - where had she even gotten that much rope?   He yelped as she secured one end to the balcony railing before flinging the rest over. “What do you think you’re doing?! You’ll get yourself killed, and then your commander will kill _me_ for letting it happen!”

“He won’t care.” Her voice sounded so … hollow to her ear. Why had she let someone get that close, affect her so much? “He’s got Olivia now. The inquisition still has its token Trevelyan, two or three, even.” She tested the rope before wrapping it around her leg once and under her foot. It wouldn’t be the _best_ way down, but she could control her descent, somewhat. She’d snuck out of her family’s castle this way, once … from a much lower height, but it had worked. “And no one will know I’m me. I mean, really. Could you honestly say you’d expect me to go anywhere dressed like _this_?” She didn’t wait for his answer, choosing to slowly make her way down the tallest wall of the keep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shouldering her pack once she was on the ground, Regan took off running. She wasn’t sure where she was going, or how far away she wanted to get, or even how she was going to keep warm, but it didn’t matter. She just needed to get _away_ and think. She fully expected Gabriel to go running to Cullen, or Leliana, or Cassandra … or at _least_ to Aaron as soon as he was done watching her make her descent; he wouldn’t have considered taking his eye off her until he was sure she wasn’t going to plummet to her death. But that still would give her time to put _some_ distance between herself and the Keep … between herself and Cullen, wouldn’t it?

Regan was just ducking behind a large boulder when she saw someone she _should_ have expected. “Cole, you can go back to Skyhold.” Admittedly, a part of her was glad to see him; he was holding a fur-lined cloak open for her, easily draping it over her shoulders when she got near enough. He wasn’t alone either.

“You can move faster with him.” He held out reins attached to the large horse that had accompanied the other gifts the Qunari had delivered. Bull had told her the mount was called Asaarash, though she opted for a shorter “Ash”, finding it much easier to pronounce. “He wants to help, was raising a fuss in the stables. Master Dennett asked me to find out why.” He ducked his head slightly, wondering why she’d chosen to stop out into the snow without anything for warmth. He may ‘accidentally’ delve into the minds of the others in the Inquisition, but he made a special effort _not_ to invade her thoughts unless she allowed it. “Can I … I want to help.”

“Thank you, Cole,” she murmured, reaching out to hug him warmly. As much as she professed otherwise, the idea of trekking through snow on foot filled her with dread. Ash’s presence would be a great help. “You’ve already helped a lot. Go back and tell Master Dennett that Ash just wanted to get out and run for a bit and that he’ll be back when he’s ready.” She half-smiled, thinking that could almost be said for her, though she didn’t particularly want anyone to know anything about when she was due back just then. “And I’d really prefer if you didn’t tell anyone you saw me.” She knew he was confused, but there was so much going on in her head that she knew there was no way to explain it all to him. “I _will_ come back, Cole. I promise.” She gave him a quick hug, then climbed aboard the large horse and disappeared down the path.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                (back in Skyhold)             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~    

“She went … out _where?_ ” Aaron dug his fingers into the corners by his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as Gabriel re-explained how their sister had left her chambers. He thought about asking why Gabe hadn’t stopped her, but knew it would be pointless. If Regan wanted out, she got out, simple as that. If he’d tried, she would have just waited til they were both asleep and done it anyway. “Do you know which way she went?”

“Not a clue,” Gabriel sighed, staring out at the snow. “I’m pretty sure we could follow her footprints, unless the wind managed to cover them, anyway. “ He turned back to his brother, leaning on the banister. “Should we tell … well, anyone that she … I mean, they _probably_ expect her at some meeting or another soon, don’t they?” He could see it now … a runner banging on her door, calling for the Inquisitor to come to whatever meeting someone had called, only to be told that she had … essentially … disappeared. _That_ would go over well.

Aaron smirked, shaking his head. “We probably _should_ , though I’m not sure who would be the best person _to_ tell.” He moved to her desk and found a piece of blank parchment, scribbling a quick note informing whomever read it that the Inquisitor had taken a brief … leave of absence … and would return at a later date. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. He blotted the ink dry, rolled it and sealed it with the inquisition seal. “We’ll have a runner take this to … that Qunari she talked about; what was his name?”

“Iron Bull?” Gabriel supplied, heading toward the stairs. “Think he’ll read it? Or just pass it on up the chain?” He wondered who would be the most upset at her disappearance. Despite the current evidence to the contrary, he had to believe the commander wouldn’t do that to her … not intentionally. If … _when_ he found out she’d gone, and they’d let her …. “Let’s pray he doesn’t give it straight to the commander. I think I’d prefer we were gone from Skyhold, and on her trail, before he finds out.”

“You don’t think he’s carrying on with that fake Trevelyan?” At Gabriel’s surprised expression, Aaron nodded. “I did a little research with that mage in the library … the Tevinter one.”

“Dorian.”

“Right, Dorian.” Aaron never was any good at remembering names right away. Eventually he would commit them to memory, and be able to tell you anything and everything about the person, but for the first few meetings, it was a crap-shoot as to what he remembered. “Anyway, we were looking over the books with the Trevelyan family tree …. I’m guessing the ambassador had them brought in from Ostwick. There is no mention of any Olivia Trevelyan, at all. Ever. Not even a hint of a reference.” He followed his brother down the steps, still detailing the efforts they had made to determine the stranger’s identity. “Whoever she is, she is _not_ one of us.”

“Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her around since … well, since we met with her.” Gabriel shoved open the door and grabbed a passing runner. After instructing him to take the message straight to The Iron Bull, the pair moved as quickly as possible, without drawing attention to themselves, to the stables.

It took a little work to convince the horsemaster to let them take two mounts; he had no direct knowledge of their ability, after all, but eventually, he released a Dalish All-Bred and a Free Marches Ranger into their care. Aaron had procured a few small bits of food from the kitchens; he couldn’t take much without rousing suspicions, especially since they just got there. They had just made it past the gate and over the bridge when a wall of ice appeared in front of them.

“Going somewhere?”

Gabriel looked over his shoulder and sighed. He’d hoped they’d get further before anyone noticed. “Dorian. Iron Bull.” He glanced at Aaron, considered raising his own wall between them, but decided against it. He didn’t know quite how skilled Dorian was, or what spells he could wield quickly, and Bull would likely just knock the wall down with that giant … nug he was riding. “I assume you read Aaron’s message?” When the pair nodded, he went on. “We’re going after her, try to get her back before anyone _else_ notices she’s missing.”

“Too late,” Bull smirked, shaking his massive head. “You can bet Red knows she’s gone; probably already has a scout or a bird or something watching her.” He nudged Thunder forward, slowly slipping past the pair of Trevelyans with Dorian close behind. “You two go back. Talk to Cullen. He … He’s not handling things well. We’ll go find her.”

“ _He’s_ not handling things well?” Aaron scoffed, gripping the reins tighter than intended. “It’s his bloody fault she’s even _out_ here. If he hadn’t taken up with that imposter … hadn’t brought her to his office the same night … Maker, the same damned time he was supposed to be having dinner with our sister ….”

“Are you really that much of a fool?” Dorian sighed, shaking his head. He turned to look at the younger male, hoping he was a little more clear-headed. “Look, go back … find Cullen. He hasn’t eaten anything since it happened. He’s barely slept. He’s been more snappish with the recruits than normal. _We’ll_ go find her and explain things.”

“Explain what, exactly?” Aaron brought the All-Bred around to block Dorian’s Courser and frowned. He got the feeling that Dorian blamed Regan for what happened and he didn’t particularly like it. “Explain why your commander thought it a good idea to toy with our sister’s affections then flaunt his new toy after he got her trust?”

“Oh, for Andraste’s sake, shut up, Aaron.” Gabriel buried his face in his hands. Sometimes, Aaron just refused to see any possibilities other than the one he came up with. “You’ve been _looking_ for a reason to not trust him, ever since we saw them in Redcliff. You’re playing the over-protective older brother a bit _too_ well.” He turned his attention to Bull, who had just been watching the exchange carefully. “Now, what are you going to explain? If I’m going to trust you going after my sister, I would like to know that you’re not talking out your ass.”

“The longer we stay here, hemming and hawing, the further away she gets,” Bull pointed out, glancing at the now faint hoof-trail leading away. “She’s got a mount now … probably that new horse from the Qunari, if what the horsemaster said is true. So she’s moving faster. We need to get a move on.”

“Gabriel, you do what they ask. I’m probably not someone he wants to see right now anyway.” Aaron smirked, clenching his right hand into a fist for a half-second before turning his attention to the others. “ _I’ll_ be going with you. No arguments.” Without waiting for anyone’s agreement, he kicked Mormel into a fast walk, fully expecting the others to follow his directions.

Gabriel just sighed, shrugging before heading back toward the Keep. He hoped Aaron could keep his temper in check; in a fight with both the mage _and_ Qunari, he was sure to lose. Honestly, even against just _one_ of them right now, he’d probably lose. He quickly stabled Oerbos and asked the first runner he came across where he could find the commander – someone he soon recognized.

“War room, I believe, ser.”   Margot stood with her hands clasped behind her back, feeling a slight bit nervous. She knew things had gone sideways between the commander and the inquisitor and it had something to do with the stranger that had shown up, but she didn’t know the details. She hadn’t seen the Inquisitor since delivering the message the day before, and all missives that she’d been assigned to run over had been ignored. “I do have a question, ser. Do you know … I mean, no one has seen the Inquisitor since yesterday afternoon? Is she … is she alright?”

“She’s ….” Well, shit. How should he handle _this_? Gabriel wasn’t sure how close his sister was with this particular woman. As far as he knew, she rarely wanted people knowing what she was doing when she snuck out, and wasn’t this kind of the same situation? “She’s just dealing with a few … personal things,” he finally hedged. “I’ll let her know you asked after her. She’ll be happy to hear someone’s missed her, at least.”

“Oh, it’s more than just me, ser. The commander’s not been himself either; I’ll catch him every so often looking up at her balcony and sighing when he’s supposed to be training recruits.” Margot stepped aside, allowing the mage to pass by with a nod. “And Jim … James, I mean, says he’s been acting more surly than he’s seen in a while. He misses her too, I should think.”

“Thank you, Margot.” Gabriel fidgeted before finally excusing himself and near running for the main hall and the war room. He reached the war room in good time, but only found Leliana and Josephine inside. Both looked up, curious to see him in such a restricted room. The impact of two imposing women’s gaze brought a flush to his cheeks and a stammer to his speech that was most unusual. “I … um, I was looking for … um, have either of you seen ….”


	3. A History Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen finally finds out she's gone. He's ... less that thrilled, and of course, he blames himself. He also gets to learn something new about her past.

Cullen approached the final door slowly, his earlier agitation at being sent on such an errand fading the closer he got to the end. She hadn’t spoken to him since they’d parted the previous morning, when they’d arranged to have dinner together, before she was dragged away to deal with surprise newcomers and Inquisition business. When she hadn’t shown … had simply sent Jim over with the tray of food, he’d … well, he’d been devastated, especially after realizing the most likely reason she had done so. How could he have been so blind as to let that … woman … use him in whatever game she had been playing?

He’d _tried_ talking to her, or at least talking to her door, since it’d happened, but she never answered, never gave him the slightest hint that she heard him or that he might have any hope of being forgiven, or at least given the chance to explain what had happened. He’d been answered by nothing but silence every time. Dorian had promised to have a word, but even he’d not been able to find a way in to speak with her. He’d never been in quite this position; he didn’t know what to do.

With heavy steps, he came to a stop at her door, knocking gently at first then louder, until he was near beating on the wood. “Inquisitor? Leliana is requesting your presence in the war room. I can … I will remain outside if that is your wish, but she insists you come to the meeting.”

Still no answer. He tried the door and was stunned to find it unlatched. Slowly, ready to turn back at the first command, he made his way up the last of the stairs and into her room – her … empty … room. “Inquisitor?” He called out, peeking into the closets and store rooms he could easily reach. “Inquisitor, you are needed in the war room.” He continued making his way through the room, looking wherever he could think that she might be. Still nothing. “Regan?” Please, Regan, answer me?” No response. He headed out to the balcony and froze when his eyes fell upon the knotted rope dangling from the railing – a _really_ long rope.

Cullen practically scrambled down the stairs, his reservations about whether she wanted to see him or not being swept away by his concern for her, out in the cold, alone. He’d pulled up the rope, fearing the worst until he’d found the end … tied to a sandbag for weight. He was rounding the first landing when he practically ran into someone speeding in the opposite direction. “Out of my way,” he barked before realizing it was _another_ Trevelyan he’d nearly knocked over.

“She’s gone!” they both near shouted at the same time.

“You _knew_?” Cullen stared at the mage in disbelief.

“I’ve been trying to find _you_ to tell you,” Gabriel answered, leaning against the wall. When he’d entered the war room and been told that Cullen was already on his way to the Inquisitor’s room, he’d almost panicked. The run to try and catch him, while short in distance, had been hell on his nerves. “Iron Bull, Dorian, and Aaron are out looking for her now. It was suggested that I come speak with you … get your side of things and … maybe explain why she reacted as she did?” He gently guided the obviously distraught man back up the stairs into his sister’s chambers. It was a little awkward, but far easier to explain, and less likely to be interrupted.

“I must … I should tell Leliana that Re- … that the Inquisitor has ….”

“I’d wager she already knows.” Gabriel half-smiled and guided Cullen to the sofa that rested against the railing before taking a seat on the bed. “If my barging into the war room demanding to speak with you didn’t set off her little spymaster senses, I’m sure the letter that Bull would have surely passed on to her did.” He watched Cullen’s posture change from rigid … tense … official to something more akin with defeated … exhausted … human. “Alright; I know what my sister said happened. Why don’t you tell me your side?”

Cullen felt his shoulders sag; he leaned forward, rested his forearms on his thighs and almost buried his face in his hands. He knew Gabriel meant well, but … what good would any of it do? She’d left him, without so much as a word. “There’s not much to tell, honestly,” he began, remaining hunched over, fingertips pressing against his forehead. “She came to me not long before dinner. Leliana, Josephine and I had just finished yet another meeting that hadn’t required Reg- … the Inquisitor’s presence ….” He had to force himself to not say her name. If they were truly through, he would do his best to remain professional, until a replacement was found. Oh, Maker, he didn’t want to _think_ about that.

“She grabbed me as we left the war room, introduced herself … claimed she was a cousin of the Inquisitor.” Cullen felt his heart ache, his stomach knot as he managed to forgo even starting her name, for once. “Said she had urgent matters regarding your sister to discuss; said it was a matter of life or death.”

Gabriel watched as the man straightened only slightly, letting his hands fall from his forehead only to begin fiddling with the hem of his surcoat. “I’m sure she was … convincing. She had me fooled, even with that poor attempt at an accent. Aaron, not so much; he wanted her run out of here right then.”

Cullen raised his head just enough to catch Gabriel’s eye, smiling weakly before looking back at the floor again. He appreciated the mage’s attempt to make him feel less … guilty about believing her, but it didn’t help, much. “Hindsight being what it is, I _should_ have just spoken with her there, or Josephine’s office … the ambassador would have been happy to discuss your sister’s safety. But … she convinced me the discussion needed to be held in the privacy of my office, so I … I led her there.”

“Regan told us that you were … holding her close when you crossed the battlements?”

Cullen felt his stomach knot, then drop. She _had_ been watching, then. A small part of him had hoped that, maybe, she had just … _known_ … or perhaps had seen them just going through the door. But to have seen him walking, with that … woman hanging on him …. “Not exactly,” he sighed. “She had hold of my arm … my left … a tight hold, doing her best to press any and all advantages she felt her figure gave her. I didn’t realize Reg- … the Inquisitor … would see, and as I was doing nothing inherently _wrong_ , I … I gave no thought to how it might appear.”

“You can still say her name, you know.”

“I don’t …. She can’t still …. How do you …?”

“Because she still loves you.” Gabriel shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Just trust me on this one. Now, did anything happen when the two of you were in your office?” He wondered if he should find it … odd that he was having such discussions with the man who may or may not have been sleeping with his sister; they never got to _that_ tidbit of information before things went haywire.

Cullen shook his head, wondering if what the mage said was true. “Nothing,” he assured. “She was very … grabby, but I refused any advances. I was honestly hoping Reg- … the Inqisit- ….” He paused when he saw Gabriel’s expression sour at the start of her title and tried again, “I was hoping … Regan would show up to chase her off, in all honesty.” He didn’t want to admit how … right it felt saying her name and only wished she were around so he could tell her. “She was _not_ happy with the fact that I kept saying no. I cannot believe that _she_ is related to your family.”

“You may be happy to learn that she is not, in fact, related to _any_ of us.” Gabriel explained what little Aaron had gotten around to telling him about the supposed Olivia Trevelyan, mostly centered around the fact that she was _not_ a Trevelyan, and not even from the Free Marches. “So … what next? I know Regan never showed up to your room, but she wasn’t carrying any food when she passed us.”

Cullen didn’t _want_ to think about what had happened. He still thought himself a fool for letting things even get as far as they had. He just wanted to make things right; he wanted to know he hadn’t totally ruined the one good thing that had come into his life in years. “James showed up with the tray of food, told me … said she wasn’t coming, that she’d lost her appetite. I … I don’t know how long I just stood at the door, but I remember your brother bloody-ing my nose sometime after Jim left.” He brought a hand up to gingerly run along the bridge of his nose. The healer that had somehow appeared at his door moments after the altercation had done a good job fixing it, though it was still a bit tender.

“He did _what_?” Gabriel rubbed his temples in frustration. “Of course he did. That would explain where he disappeared to. She is _not_ going to be happy when she finds out about _that_.”

“I deserved it, or worse. After he left, and I figured out what was going on … I … I sent her from my office, demanded that she leave Skyhold immediately.” He pushed himself up, started pacing. Cullen had too much nervous energy to remain seated, and pacing … even in _her_ room, was preferable to sitting there with bouncing legs. “I sent a message to Leliana immediately after, advising her of what … might appear to have happened, and to go over all possible movements that … woman … had made, any possible information she might have come across that she shouldn’t.” He wondered if he should say anything further. The important fact was that he had done _nothing_ with or to the fake Trevelyan. “Then I … I went to try and speak with your sister, but … never received an answer.

“Yeah; she wouldn’t let us answer the door.” Gabriel watched the man pace for a moment, quietly wishing his sister had done the logical thing and just _spoken_ with him instead of running off. “How much as Regan told you about her past … about her youth, about growing up?”

“A … a little; she mostly spoke of time spent with you or one of her other siblings, or her parents, occasionally.”

“Never anything that didn’t involve us?” When Cullen shook his head, Gabriel sighed. “Figures; I don’t know if you noticed or not, but my sister doesn’t have an overwhelmingly positive opinion of herself … not when it comes to her looks or her ability to be feminine. Now, keep in mind that I got most of my information second hand, by letter most often.  

”Mother’s lessons on the proper behavior for a lady were often lost on her; that much I remember from before I was sent to the Circle. As a child, she … would much rather study swordplay with Tristan, and Aaron, when he came to visit, than learn how to be a _proper_ woman.” Gabriel sighed softly, momentarily wishing he’d been able to be around more; if he’d had a choice, he would have been. Of course, it may not have helped; his presence wouldn’t have altered the gender influence in their home. “Things got … difficult for her as she started … maturing. She never … filled out the way some of the other girls did, and those girls would remind her of it … constantly. And the boys weren’t much better, especially since she could beat most of them quite handily in the ring.

“The worst reminder of it had something to do with some boy she liked. Keep in mind, at this point I was at Ostwick’s circle, and while we had more freedom than most did, it still wasn’t a come-and-go-as-you-please thing, so I learned about what happened through letters and on one of her visits.” Gabriel glanced over at Cullen, noticing that he had stopped pacing and returned to the couch. The former templar’s gaze was more focused than he’d seen that day and it almost made him uncomfortable … almost. “There was some ball … or dance … or celebration, and this boy had asked to be her escort and companion for the evening. She accepted, probably quicker than she’d admit to now, and spent the next two weeks getting fitted for a dress that mother had commissioned. During that time, the boy doted on her at every possible moment.

“The night of the … dance, the boy _did_ show up and escorted her during their entrance. But not long after … things took a turn.” He paused to remind Cullen that his knowledge of the incident was limited to what he had been given in letters written by both Regan and Tristan, and a later retelling when she came to visit. “The boy had a brought a servant with him … and apparently a large number of gifts. He proceeded to go through the dance and hand out these gifts to every young woman, and ask them to dance, some repeatedly. Well, every young woman _except_ Regan. He made a point of being in her line of sight as often as possible when he asked the more … buxom women for a dance.”

The color, what little there was at this point, drained from Cullen’s face as Gabriel told his story. No wonder she had been so hurt. If she thought that he was _anything_ like this boy, even for a moment … oh, Maker, he’d ruined everything, hadn’t he? “I would never … I didn’t want … I didn’t even _know_ …. I would _never_ do that to her. She is a beautiful woman; I can think of no one more beautiful. Maker’s breath, I _need_ to find her … talk to her. I pray she’ll listen … forgive me.”

Gabriel nodded slowly, pleased to see that the commander might actually understand why what had happened upset her so. “Are Iron Bull or Dorian any good at tracking?”

“I … don’t know. I doubt Dorian is, but … Bull _might_ be. Of course, he may have relied on the Chargers for that, and … well, unfortunately, we no longer have that option.”

“Then we’ll need help.” Gabriel moved to his feet and headed for the stairs, motioning for Cullen to join him. “You’ve never played Hide-and-Seek with her, have you? If Regan doesn’t want to be found, they _won’t_ find her.”

Cullen ran through the list of possible scouts that were experienced trackers – Harding was out on assignment, as were Rylan and his men. He _could_ ask Leliana, but he wasn’t sure how much the spymaster knew, and if … somehow … she wasn’t aware that the Inquisitor was missing, he didn’t want to be the one to tell her. He couldn’t believe what he was considering … but there were two options that _might_ work. “We have a mage that … claims to spend time with spirits in the fade. Perhaps he might be able to … ask … one of them? We also have a … well, I suppose he’s a young man … with some … special talents that might be able to locate her, _if_ we can find him.”

“Might as well try both,” Gabriel suggested with a shrug. “At this point, we can’t really be choosy. How easy is it to locate either one?”


	4. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regan manages to get in trouble, again. Cullen, Gabriel, Aaron, Dorian, & Bull FINALLY manage to work together, sort of. And, of course, bears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was prompted by firgolfin over on Tumblr (prompt - “Who has done this to you?”/”Who did this to you?”)

Why in the Maker’s name had she gone out alone, again? Wearing _this_? Even with the cloak Cole had brought her, it was cold … so bloody cold. It didn’t help that she was avoiding making a fire until she absolutely had to. She wanted to be alone, and she just _knew_ Aaron and Gabriel would be looking for her. She had been a little surprised that Gabriel hadn’t done more to stop her from escaping off the balcony in the first place. But she was nearing a cave, and she figured that would be a decent place to stop and get warm. Ash was finally starting to show signs of being chilled as well and Regan really wanted to keep the horse happy, or at least moderately comfortable.

She’d had time to think, at least. That’s what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? Time to think without the interruptions of war room meetings, dignitaries to make nice with, judgments and everything else that came with being Inquisitor. And she _had_ been thinking, but nothing made sense. She just couldn’t believe Cullen could … _would_ do that to her, not after everything they’d talked about … not after everything he’d said and done. So why did her mind keep throwing those images … memories from years ago … up, reminding her what someone else had done, trying to convince her that _he_ was doing the same thing?

Oh, there was the cave. Regan guided Ash toward the opening, slipping off the saddle at the last possible moment so they could both fit through the opening. It wasn’t a _large_ cave, exactly, but it was large enough for one person and one horse to rest. She set about making a small fire, guiding Ash to an area that would keep him warm, but also out of the path of the smoke. She was careful what material she burned, and how much; she wanted as little smoke as possible to give away their position. She wasn’t sure how far ahead of whoever was looking for her she was, but the fewer signs of her presence, the better. She trusted the wind to at least hide their trail.

She pulled an apple from the pack strapped to the horse’s saddle and offered it to Ash, grinning when he practically snatched it from her palm. “We’ll take a short nap, then figure out where we’re going,” she promised before taking a seat, scooting around so she could lean against the wall. She was close enough to the fire that she was warm, but far enough away that she felt safe dozing off. It had been a long couple days, and she honestly hadn’t slept well the night before. Pulling her cloak around her, she closed her eyes and tried to relax.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Could we _really_ have gotten so lucky, boss?”

“Who’da thought that the honest-to-Maker Inquisitor would have just … brought herself to the people hired to find her?”

“We gonna kill her, boss? Or take her back to ….”

“We take her back. The client doesn’t want her dead, _but_ he didn’t say we couldn’t have some fun, first.”

Regan woke slowly, trying to decide if she was actually hearing voices or if it was all in a dream. She lifted a hand to wipe the sleep from her eyes … or, she tried to, anyway. She tried again and discovered that her wrists were bound behind her back. Her cloak was still on, thank Andraste, but it was no longer wrapped around her thanks to the awkward position of her hands; at least her hands were bound _under_ the cloak, rather than above. Ash could be heard somewhere behind her, huffing with agitation and she wondered just how they were restraining her horse. She tried to look around without attracting attention, but failed epically.

“Look who’s awake. Might as well get a move on, then.”

One of the men stepped toward her, lifted her up and draped her over Ash’s saddle. It was one of the most uncomfortable positions she’d ever found herself in. “We’ve got a ways to go, but I’m pretty sure we passed some sort of village or town not too far back. We’ll stop there and … get to know her a little before heading to the rendezvous point.”

She felt Ash start moving and could only assume one of the men had taken his reins. Keeping her mouth shut, she squirmed, tried to get her hands free, but whatever they tied her with was knotted well. This was certainly _not_ the way she’d wanted to get away from the Inquisition. Regan kept an eye on the ground and whimpered when she saw the cave floor give way to snow and felt the chilled air waft beneath the cloak. Screaming would do no good; it was likely no one was near enough to help. Her blades were back in Skyhold … all but the small throwing daggers she always kept hidden in her belts, but those were out of reach unless she could get her hands free. So she did the only thing she could think of; she started easing her hands down, trying to wriggle her body in such a way that she could work her rear, and eventually legs, through the opening between her arms. Of course, _that_ didn’t work the way she hoped, and she found herself sliding head first off the saddle into the snow.

Ash reared as her weight moved from his back to the ground, drawing the attention of most of the men. He did what he could to keep them distracted, even succeeding in knocking a couple into trees and rocks. But he couldn’t keep all of them away, and try as she might, Regan could only do so much to fight them off with no hands in the snow. Several minutes later, she was battered, bloodied and bruised, leaning against a tree for support as the men came closer. She gritted her teeth, trying to prepare herself for another attempt at getting away when a scream from behind caught their attention.

“BEARS! Run!”

Of course there were bears. Why wouldn’t there be bears? There was nowhere in this Maker-forsaken country that _didn’t_ have bears, right? She couldn’t see Ash anymore, hoped he’d managed to get away rather than run into the bears. Slumping against the tree, she watched the men exchange glances, look at her and apparently decide that having to carry her would slow them down too much. She would have smiled watching them run into the trees if she wasn’t so damned sore, and cold, and weak. She had to _try_ to get away, didn’t she? Yes, yes she did. Becoming a bear snack was _not_ on her list of things to do.

She pushed away from the tree with a whimper, hands still tied behind her back. One step, two … three … fo- … nope; no fourth step. She felt herself fall forward, suddenly struck by the memory of the last time she was trudging through snow all alone. She couldn’t expect _him_ to come looking for her again, not after seeing him with Olivia … not after the way she’d behaved. She twisted as best she could to avoid face-planting in the snow, landing mostly on her side, thankful for the cloak’s thick fur and faint warmth even as it started soaking up the wet. This was just wonderful. She had just needed some privacy to _think_ , and now … here she was, slowly freezing to death because she wouldn’t just go _talk_ to someone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“There’s Asaarash!”

“He’s running like demons are after him. Where’s the Inquisitor?”

“Wait, he’s … stopping? He’s seen us, right? What’s he doing?”

“Why isn’t Regan with him? Where _is_ she?”

“I … think he wants us to follow him.”

Cullen kicked Angel into a gallop, apologizing for the rough terrain, but he was certain Gabriel was right; that horse wanted them to follow him. To him, that could only mean one thing - she was _hurt_. How badly, he couldn’t say, but that was the only reason he could think of that she wouldn’t be _with_ that horse, especially since Cole had finally told them that he’d taken the beast to her. He could hear the others urge their mounts to follow, faster than was likely safe over the terrain, but he had little thought for them at that moment. The _only_ thing he was concerned with was reaching her.

“Bear tracks, Cullen!” Iron Bull noticed the large paw prints in the snow and called out a warning, thankful the wind was not blowing as violently as it had been when he, Dorian and Aaron had been riding in the other direction. Next time, he’d remember to bring someone who actually knew how to track in snow … or just not let someone run away into mountains of the stuff.

Gabriel clung to Cullen, knowing that if his sister was hurt, his knowledge of healing magic would be of more use than Cullen’s blade. The snow made for slightly rough going, but Angel seemed to handle it well enough, even with double the load. He wondered if the commander had heard Bull’s warning; the man hadn’t acknowledged it in his haste to follow Ash. He got his answer a moment later when they reached their goal.

Cullen practically leapt off his horse and scrambled over to a dark lump in the snow, drawing his blade as he watched a large bear pace dangerously close. He’d neglected to bring his shield, relieved he had at least been wearing his armor. Thank the Maker for routine. She’d tried to convince him to spend more time in plainclothes when at Skyhold, and he had been considering it. But recent events were making him reconsider. He wasn’t sure the form he stood over was really her … the cloak wasn’t familiar, but the tufts of hair he caught a glimpse of were memorable enough, but no matter who it was, he couldn’t … _wouldn’t_ let the bear have them.

A wall of fire rose up between bear and the others, soon followed by a wall of solid ice. It wouldn’t seem like a logical combination, but the quick succession of one after the other, and the steam it created, seemed to herd the bear away, allowing Cullen to actually check on the cloaked form. Gabriel and Dorian focused on keeping the bear away until Bull and Aaron could join in the defense. When they caught up, Gabriel turned his attention to Cullen and the body in the snow. “Is it her?”

“S-s-s-s-o-o-o ... c-c-c-c-ol-d-d-d-d-d.”

The voice was faint, barely above a whisper. It came out choppy, teeth chattering as the words started and stopped in a cold stutter. Gabriel couldn’t tell if the person was even aware they were speaking. He watched as Cullen pulled the hood back, watched as that familiar auburn hair came into view. Her eyes were shut, skin and lips hadn’t really begun to go blue, so she hadn’t been in the snow _too_ long. He saw the rise and fall of her torso, slow and labored. There were bruises scattered about her face, and he was sure they were elsewhere.

Cullen felt his stomach drop when he pulled the hood back. It _was_ her, battered and bruised, but her. He barely glanced at Gabriel before scooping her into his arms; he _had_ to get her out of the snow. “Inqui- … Regan?” he whispered, clutching her to him. “Who did this to you? I swear by all that is holy, I will make them pay. Just tell me, _who_ did this?” He didn’t expect an answer, simply carrying her over toward Angel. Gabriel would just have to ride Asaarash, but that had always been part of the plan; it was why they’d doubled up in the first place.

“I … I’m-m … s-s-s-s-s-or-ry … C-c-c-c-c-c-ull-l-l-l-en-n-n-n-n.”

He didn’t know if she was awake, aware of what she was saying, of anything that was going on, but he didn’t care. She was alive, breathing … that was all that mattered. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, love,” he murmured, frowning as he looked up at Angel’s saddle. How, exactly, was he going to be able to mount his horse carrying her like this? He couldn’t very well put her _down_ and then mount, and he was afraid to shift her too much in order to find a way to mount his horse without putting her down.

“Give her here.” Aaron came up behind him, already astride Oerbos. “I can take her back.” Dorian had tried to tell him nothing had happened between Cullen and the imposter, that it was all one big misunderstanding, but Aaron seemed determined to remain angry at the commander. “She’ll want to be with someone she _trusts_ when she wakes up.” He started reaching for her, Cullen just staring up at him in some strange combination of shock, hurt, and resignation.

“Oh, for the love of the Maker, Aaron.” Gabriel guided Ash over, moving between the two. This was certainly not the time to be bickering about who was going to take her back to the Keep; they _needed_ to get her somewhere warm, fast. He couldn’t do much healing here. “Cullen can carry her back. I’m pretty sure she’d be ok with it.” He slid off the horse and walked over, taking her from Cullen long enough for the commander to climb into the saddle. “She’s cold, weak and we _need_ to get her back before I can do anything.” He pulled off the cloak he’d thrown on and draped it over her, hoping it would keep enough of the wind off when they rode back, then climbed back aboard his mount. “Let’s go.”

“Your brother doesn’t much care for Cullen, does he?” Dorian pulled alongside the other mage, letting Bull ride between the former templars to keep the peace. “He didn’t seem to be interested when I was trying to explain what had gone on; rather stubbornly insisted that his sister deserved better, over and over.”

Gabriel couldn’t help but chuckle at the Tevinter’s observations; they were fairly spot on. “He’s probably not going to care much for me when we get back, either. I plan on telling him if he can’t be civil, and _listen_ , he doesn’t need to be in the way while we’re taking care of her. How long do you think she was out here?”

“We?” Dorian repeated, surprised when Gabriel nodded. He hadn’t been expecting to be involved in trying to heal her. He smiled faintly, surprised at the acceptance from even one of her siblings, and nodded. “Probably for the best. I can imagine the accusations hurled about would be a distraction.” He had no real way of knowing how long she’d been out in the cold, but his best guess was at least hopeful. “Not terribly long. She wasn’t blue, and she was still warmish to the touch, so I shall be hopeful we reached her soon after she fell.”

Dorian glanced ahead, saw Bull arguing with Aaron while Cullen urged Angel to move just a little faster. They weren’t _terribly_ far from the Keep, thank the Maker. If she’d been much further out … he didn’t want to think about that. She was … a good friend, and someone who could actually _help_ another of his good friends, if they just got their heads out of their arses.

“For the last time, Trevelyan,” Bull growled, keeping Thunder’s massive form between Aaron and Cullen, “Cullen’s got her. He’s not going to do anything to hurt her, and he _didn’t_ do anything before.” He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. The dirty looks, he didn’t care about; he didn’t think Cullen even noticed them. But the near incessant comments … wasn’t this man near forty? Shouldn’t he be more mature than this? For that matter, wasn’t he a templar? Shouldn’t he be used to following orders? Three of them had damned near ordered him to let it drop, to give Cullen the chance to explain, at _least_ to her, before rushing to judgment. But here he was, still blaming the man who had done nothing but beat himself up since it happened. “You doin’ OK with her, Cullen?”

Cullen didn’t answer right away. His attention was on the woman cradled against him, keeping her as secure as possible while moving quickly toward Skyhold. It took two more attempts before he glanced at Bull and nodded. “I’m fine, Bull. I … He is not … I deserve his displeasure. If I had been … if I had paid more attention … realized what that woman was doing, none of this would have happened.”


	5. Those We Forgive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Skyhold, Regan is recovering. Cullen is worrying. Dorian is best friend-ing, and Gabriel is chaperoning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A second part of the prompt from firgolfin over on Tumblr– “I thought you were dead.”

“We’ve done everything we can, Cullen.” Dorian rubbed his eyes, leaned tiredly against the balcony rail. They’d shut all the windows … even those giant stained glass doors that Regan so often left open. He’d stoked the fire to near bonfire status, caged it in with the best screen Dagna and Harritt could craft under short notice. Gabriel and Iron Bull were with her now, checking what they could. He hated to admit it, but the Trevelyan mage was far more knowledgeable than he’d expected when it came to healing spells; the Marcher’s skills far outpaced his own. “It will just take time, now.”

“I … I shouldn’t be here when she wakes.” Cullen rested his forearms on the railing, staring out at the snow covered mountains. How far had she been intending to go? Had she been leaving the Inquisition? Or just leaving him? He sighed quietly, listened to Dorian list the injuries they’d managed to find and treat. She was surprisingly well off, considering she was passed out in the snow when they’d found her. Whatever had happened had to have only _just_ occurred. “She’ll need her rest, not a reminder of why she left.”

“Oh, don’t even start with that.” Gabriel shoved open one of the doors and stepped onto the balcony. “If I know my sister, she’ll want you here … even if it’s just to yell at you until she feels better.” He cast a glance at Dorian and nodded, gesturing slightly toward Cullen with his chin. “But she’ll be more put out with you if she sees how little you’ve eaten … or rested. Dorian will take the next shift watching her.” He reached out, gently guided Cullen away from the rail and toward the room. “Let’s get some food in you. If she’s not awake by the time we’re done eating, I expect you to at least _try_ to get some sleep.”

For once, Cullen didn’t argue. Perhaps the mage’s words had finally sunk in. Maybe it was the fact that he _trusted_ Dorian to make sure he was kept in the loop. Maybe it was the fact that Bull was standing there, as if waiting for him to refuse; he had no doubt the Qunari could carry him off in his current state. “As soon as she wakes …?” Dorian repeated the promise, chuckling as the others guided the commander toward the stairs. “Thank you,” he muttered to no one in particular … or maybe to all three as he was led from her room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~               

It had been an hour, maybe two, since they’d managed to convince Cullen to go take care of himself and the girl had barely stirred. Dorian sat on the edge of the bed, nose in one of the books from her shelves - a book of Ferelden children’s stories, apparently. Why it was on _her_ shelves, he didn’t know. He’d cast occasional glances over, make sure she was still breathing … sometimes pour warm broth down her throat to keep her fed, but he was getting _bored_. He knew it was important that someone stay with her, knew Cullen was relying on him to keep her alive … but, Maker, he was bored. “Alright, cousin, you can wake up any time now.”

That shouldn’t have worked. It really shouldn’t have. It was only a comment made out of frustration. But mere seconds later, her eyes fluttered open and she tried to sit up. Tried and failed, but tried nonetheless. A faint groan escaped as she struggled to move … anything. Where was she? Where was the snow? Hadn’t she fallen face first? Why was she on her back? Why wasn’t she cold? Where was Ash? What about the men who’d taken her? Where in the Maker’s name _was_ she?

Dorian thought about calling down for a runner … or, more appropriately, running down the countless stairs to the first runner he could find. He _thought_ about it, but the idea of running anywhere, especially when stairs he would have to come right back _up_ were involved … no thank you. Besides, he needed to see if her being awake was going to last. If he sent for Cullen and she passed out again …. “Shhh, have no fear my lady,” he soothed, reaching out for her hand. “You are back in your chambers … you’re safe, now.”

A voice … familiar, not echo-y like she’d feared …. Dorian? Yes, Dorian. What had he said? She was … home? Safe? The warmth of his hand in hers encouraged her. She tugged gently, pulled herself into a fair imitation of a seated position. Everything _hurt_. She … wait, where was the antaam-saar? Why was she in a shift and not the armor she’d remembered strapping on? _Who_ had changed her? She certainly couldn’t remember doing so. “How did ...? Where is … ? Why …?”

Dorian chuckled softly, helping her scoot back so she could rest against the headboard. He didn’t want her straining herself with something as simple as remaining seated. “Take your time, cousin. I do hope you’re feeling better, now?” He waited for her nod, fully expecting a flood of questions that didn’t come. “Your brothers notified Bull that you had … taken leave. Bull in turn notified me. The lot of us went after you.” He figured he might as well explain as much as he could before she asked. “We found you in the snow; Asaarash found us tramping about, mostly in the wrong direction, and led us to you. There was a bear nearby. Did it attack you?”

Bear … bear ... oh, the bear! “No,” she answered slowly, working a kink out of her jaw. “He … she … it … actually helped me?” Was that right? Yes, yes it was. “There were … bandits? Mercenaries, maybe? They talked about being paid to find … capture me.” She closed her eyes, tried to remember. There was the cave … she had stopped to rest, figure out where to go. She’d slept, woke up with hands bound. “They … never said _who_ paid them; just that they had time … before they had to be somewhere. They were … said they would … _get to know me_ before taking me to meet their employer.” She shivered slightly, knowing good and well how they’d intended on doing so.

“Let’s leave that part out when we tell this story to Cullen, shall we?” Dorian rose, shifted positions so he could look at her, carry on a real conversation. “What were you _doing_ out there, anyway? Your brother’s explanation was … severely lacking.”

She looked away, sighed softly.   “Cullen and Olivia,” she murmured, hating the way even their names sounded together. She tried to figure out why she had thought that running away would solve anything. It had made sense at the time, but Maker, it sounded so _stupid_ now, even in her head.

“I can assure you, Regan, _nothing_ happened between them.” He frowned, still wishing he had consulted those books sooner, seen through her sooner. Things might have been different … might never have reached this point if he had _just_ paid more attention. “Think about it. The Venatori … Corypheus … Calpernia … they would all be looking for _any_ way to slow our progress. What better way to hit the Inquisition than where it would truly hurt?” He saw hope flicker in her eyes just before it faded, replaced by a heavy layer of doubt. “You _know_ Cullen wouldn’t have the smallest desire to make a move on her; not when he has someone like _you_.”

“But she’s so … so much … _girl_.” Regan pressed her fingertips against her eyes, trying to make it clear … in her head and to Dorian … why she had no chance with _anyone_ when compared to someone like Olivia. “And I’m so … so … just, not.” She sighed, gestured to encompass all of herself. “I can’t even remotely compete with that. He wouldn’t have to worry that she’d get herself hurt or killed or ….”

“Because she most certainly _would_ get herself killed,” Dorian interrupted, shaking his head. “Cullen doesn’t want someone he’d _constantly_ have to protect, that would hide behind the curtain at the slightest hint of trouble, that he can’t _trust_ to watch his back. He wants _you_ , you idiot – the girl who can take care of herself in a fight, who can fend off attackers to protect her friends, _including_ him. He wants the _woman_ who can do all that and more, but still manages to make _him_ feel like he’s needed. He’s just too damned scared to say it himself because he doesn’t want to come off as needy, because _templars_ aren’t supposed to _need_ anything … except lyrium.”

“But ….”

“No buts. That woman is slime. If she isn’t _actually_ a Venatori spy, she’s damn well on their payroll.” He reached out, rested his hands on her shoulders … looked her straight in the eye. “She has absolutely _no_ relation to the Trevelyans … _none_. The accent’s wrong, she knows _nothing_ of your history, and none of the family trees show any mention of her. There’s not even anything in her face that _remotely_ suggests a relation. She is … _was …_ trying to distract you, keep us all from doing our jobs against her Elder One. Don’t let her.” He felt her shoulders sag, saw her bite her lip as she looked away. “Cullen loves you, you damned fool. And I know you love him. _Talk_ to him, please?”

“He … he loves me? Even after …?”

“Of course he does, you idiot.” He rose, finally deciding to let Cullen know she was awake. “I will be _right_ back,” he assured her before making his way down the stairs. Thankfully, Margot was camped out halfway down. He instructed her to locate Cullen, Gabriel, and Bull in whichever order she could, though they were likely all together, then returned to Regan’s chambers only to find her standing, wobbly, on the balcony.

“But … what if he doesn’t want to see me?” Regan didn’t bother looking behind her; she could hear his feet on the stone floor. She couldn’t believe how poorly she’d acted, running away like a child when she should have just …. “He probably hates me for how I acted … for running away from hi- … my duties as Inquisitor.”

“He hasn’t been acting much better,” Dorian replied as he joined her. “The only difference is that he didn’t try to leave Skyhold … yet. Trust me on this one. He _wants_ to see you. He was with us when we found you. The only time I’ve seen him more worried was when he was searching for you after Haven.” He rested a hand on her shoulder, turned and guided her back toward the bed. “I’d wager that he is afraid _you_ don’t want to see _him_ , at this point.” He waited until she was comfortable, then took a seat on the edge of the bed near her. “That woman fooled all of us, _including_ him, and he feels awful about it. Will you at least give him a chance to explain?”

She didn’t get a chance to answer, because at that moment, four pairs of feet thundered up the stairs and through the door. A chorus of “She’s awake?” greeted her as Dorian leaned down to kiss her forehead. She looked over, saw Gabriel and Aaron, side by side, looking relieved. There was Bull towering in the back; she saw him looking at Aaron … watching him carefully. She wondered why. But where was …? Her eyes fell on the familiar furred collar as he stepped out from behind Bull, though it looked odd without his typical armor. He didn’t quite meet her gaze, looking more toward the bed than her, but her heart skipped a beat all the same.

“Yes, she’s awake, but probably not for terribly long. She _does_ still need her rest.” Dorian headed over, pulled Cullen aside for just a moment while Gabriel and Aaron ran to her side. “ _Talk_ to her,” he whispered, resting his hands on Cullen’s shoulders. He had to do some creative positioning to avoid the fur, but it didn’t matter. “She’ll listen. Just … be _honest_ with her.”

Cullen looked over in time to see Gabriel and Aaron each give her a hug. He didn’t know what they’d talked about, but the eldest brother looked as though he’d been seriously reprimanded. He glanced at Bull, who simply bid the Inquisitor a speedy recovery then followed the brothers out. He wasn’t sure why everyone was leaving, and while a part of him was glad for the chance to speak with her alone, a part of him feared what would happen. Dorian was the last to leave, promising that either he or Gabriel would be back to check up on her soon. And then, it was just the two of them.

She sat a little straighter, glancing over at him, then away, then back again. She couldn’t decide where was better to look – _at_ Cullen, or anywhere but. She felt horrible about her behavior; it had been childish and rash and she should have listened to Gabriel and _waited_. And he wasn’t moving … wasn’t coming any closer, but at least he wasn’t leaving, either. She tried to get the picture of him and Olivia out of her head, found it was more difficult than she’d like, even now. “Cullen?” she whispered, trying to catch his eye one more time before looking away.

He was rooted to the spot, afraid to speak, hardly able to breathe, until his name passed her lips in a hesitant whisper. Then, he was at her side, on his knees, faster than he’d even known he could move. Lifting her chin, turning her face to so he could look _at_ her … so she could look at him, _see_ him. “My lady … Inquisitor ….” He watched her eyes look away, a sadness there that damn near broke his heart. “Regan, my lo- … Regan … please, look at me?” He couldn’t help but hope she was still his, despite Gabriel’s assurances.

She heard her title, so formal and impersonal, and couldn’t help but look away, couldn’t hide the flash of hurt. Then it was her name, a soft … hopeful sound she hadn’t expected. Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip; she couldn’t bring herself to say anything as she turned violet eyes to him, gaze traveling over lips pulled tight with worry, cheeks pallid even in shadow until she met his gaze. Tawny eyes watched her, darting nervously up and down, taking in her as she took in him. She could make out small pools of unshed tears, could see traces of red around his lids and whimpered as his thumb brushed over her cheek.

“I … I thought you were dead,” he whispered, leaning in to press his forehead against hers. “You were just … lying there, in the snow. And all I could think was … was that you hated me, that I never had a chance to make things … to fix ….” He squeezed his eyes shut, tears he hadn’t planned on shedding drawing tracks down his cheeks. Maker, he’d been so afraid, so worried that he’d lost the one thing he never expected to find in the first place. “I swear to you, on my honor … on my _life_ , I didn’t do _anything_ with that woman. She tried; Maker save me, but that woman was determined. She damned near mounted me in my chair. But I was having none of it. She wasn’t … _isn’t_ … you, could never _compare_ … could _never_ replace you in my heart.”

Regan could find no words … nothing to convey the thoughts racing through her mind. She watched the tears, foreign as they were, move over his cheeks, brought her fingers to them, gently traced the path they’d followed. She knew some men could … _would_ lie about such things, especially when caught, but she could detect no note of falsehood, no insincerity in his voice. “I’m so sorry, Cullen.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as words caught in her throat. Small words that did little to encompass truly how she felt. “I should never have …. I should have just _talked_ to you.”

He felt his heart still as her fingers moved over his skin, the desire to lean into her touch strong. But he held. “Shhhh.” A hand came up, fingers running gently through her hair. What she _should_ have done didn’t matter. He _should_ have seen through the woman, been more alert, cautious. They’d both made mistakes, but maybe they’d learned from them, too. “I … it’s alright, love.” He hadn’t meant for that to come out, had only meant to assure her that she shouldn’t worry. Was the endearment too soon?

“Cullen, I ….”

He moved to lay a finger against her lips, barely brushing the soft skin that he’d so missed. He saw the familiar rosy tint flood her cheeks and smiled. “I probably would have done the same thing … or worse, if I had seen you with another man,” he admitted, neglecting to mention the flares of jealousy that sparked early in their relationship, seeing her so … happy spending time with Bull or Blackwall or even Dorian. “I may not have gone running out into the snow half-dressed, of course, but … I ….” He laughed as her hand came down against his arm, a teasing reprimand as her laugh filled the room.

“Yes, well … I didn’t want to be mistaken for the Inquisitor if I could help it,” she explained, looking around the room. “Where _is_ it, anyway? It was surprisingly comfortable, though certainly not warm. It might be handy out in the west, though; fewer places for sand to hide.”

“Your brother had Margot hang it somewhere to dry,” he explained softly, reaching out to stroke her cheek. “I … must admit ….” He cleared his throat, other hand moving to rub the back of his neck. He could feel his ears grow warm and sighed. It never changed, did it? He was _always_ just that slight bit … nervous … revealing his thoughts when it came to her. “I found it … difficult to take my eyes off you in it. Doesn’t really seem like practical attire for anyone who’s running headlong into a fight, though.”

“Like I tend to?”

He nodded, smiling as she broke into a matching grin. “Just so.” Maker, he couldn’t stop _touching_ her, tracing fingers along her cheek, her throat, her arm. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, find some way to tell her _everything_ he felt for her. “Would you perhaps … consider … wearing ….” He trailed off, not quite knowing how to ask, or even _why_ he was asking. They’d never even _discussed_ the things that were on his mind. For all he knew, she wouldn’t be interested in taking that step. He was about to tell her to forget he’d said anything, to just … let him be happy that she was back. He was about to, but was cut off as skilled fingers gripped his furred collar, pulled him down.

Then, there were lips … wondrous soft lips … pressed against his; tongue tracing along then slipping past the gasp of surprise to tease his own. And any fears fled as his arm wrapped around her, held her to him as soft moans were muffled by open mouths. Fingers moving to his hair while others slid around to tickle along his spine; Maker, he suddenly wished his tunic wasn’t there. Uncertain, he shifted, one hand running along her side, careful not to drag too much of the shift up, until the heel of his hand brushed against the curve of her breast. An encouraging moan and twist of her body was all it took for his hand to close on the soft mound and his own groan to answer hers. He squeezed once, felt her hand drift down to his hip, start moving around to the front of his …

Deliberate, heavy footsteps announced someone’s approach, almost as if that someone was being extra loud. They broke apart as the final door to her room creaked open, each flushed, embarrassed smiles plastered on both faces. Cullen rose, started to leave her side when a hand shot out, grabbed his and squeezed as two pairs of eyes turned toward the steps.

“Hope I didn’t interrupt.” Gabriel looked as though he had no clue what had been going on mere seconds before his arrival. Or he didn’t care; he _was_ her older brother, after all. “Regan needs to get a little more rest, I’m afraid.” Ignoring her squawk of protest, he carried the bowl of stew he’d brought over to her bedside. “Sorry, sister. This is what you get for climbing out your window and worrying all of us. You’ll be free to wander about tomorrow or the next day, _if_ you listen to your healer.” He looked over at Cullen and smiled; the commander seemed determined to _not_ meet his eyes. “Aaron wished to see you for a moment, Cullen. I _think_ he wishes to apologize.”

“About bloody time,” Regan grumbled before Cullen dropped to one knee beside her again.

“I love you,” he whispered before feathering kisses along her cheek. “And only you. Listen to your brother, love. My days are much brighter when you are back in them.” A smug smile crossed his lips as he watched her cheeks turn pinker; he didn’t think that was possible and then headed for the stairs. Whether Aaron wanted to apologize or not didn’t matter. _She_ still wanted him, if this was any indication, and _that_ was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point, I want to go back and add little short bits to illustrate the interactions Cullen noticed … the things that made those little flares of jealousy pop up. I just haven’t quite figured out how to do them yet.


	6. The Pieces Fall Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regan's tired of being kept in her chambers. She needs to see Cullen, to apologize, again. The apology takes a turn she did not expect, but certainly doesn't mind.
> 
> And it looks like Jim/James isn't the only one with a knack for interrupting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the ONLY attempt at smut I shall make, and even then, it's only very little smut. I'm not sure why, but I don't think smut is my thing. (OK, I think I've made it clear, there's a little smut here. Be gentle.)

True to his word, Gabriel kept her almost locked in her room for two more days. Regan couldn’t help but think this was some sick form of punishment … his way of getting back at her for not listening to his advice. By the second day, though, she was about ready to do it again, just so she could be _finally_ see Cullen for more than five minutes. He’d been up several times the first day, but every visit had been kept short, with Gabriel _and_ Dorian insisting that she needed her rest. The second, he wasn’t even allowed _in_. It had to be a plot. They hadn’t really had a chance to talk … or do anything else … since that first private conversation, and she didn’t want to risk things getting awkward again.

“Good news, sister.” On the third morning, Gabriel strolled his way into her room without knocking; a habit he’d picked up in his short time in Skyhold that would _need_ to be rectified, and soon. “Dorian and I have discussed, and we believe you are healed enough to return to your duties as Inquisitor.” He didn’t bother hiding a laugh at her enthusiastic whoop of joy or the fact that she bounded out of bed and all but dashed for her closet. “I _was_ asked to tell you that Lady Montilyet wishes to see you. Something about a wardrobe fitting?”

“Ugh, Orlesians, Regan groaned, letting her head rest against the wall. “I _really_ don’t want to think about going to that stupid ball; not now.” She glanced over at her brother and smiled.

“Oh, no. I know that smile. I am _not_ going to go in your place.”

“Wasn’t going to ask you, Gabe,” Regan laughed. She thought back to the last … the _only_ time something like that had happened. Her mother had wanted a dress made for her, but she was too ill to stand for the fittings at the time. Instead, Gabriel had been forced to stand in because he was the closest to her size. Not long after, he got sent to the circle; so every so often she would tease him about it. “I was _just_ going to ask if you’d let Josephine know I’d be available this afternoon. I’ve been neglecting looking over the Commander’s reports for the last few days and I really should take care of it.”

“Uh huh.” Gabriel just shook his head and made his way back down the stairs. He was glad the two had seemingly worked out their issues, and that Aaron had _finally_ apologized for punching Cullen. Regan had _not_ been pleased when she’d discovered _that_ was where he’d gone. While Dorian had been discussing … whatever … with Cullen after she awoke, _he_ got to listen to her rip their eldest sibling a new one. It was strangely satisfying.

Regan just shook her head and darted back into the small room she’d refitted as a closet and changing area. With a relieved smile, she changed clothes, wrapping an oversized cloak around her to combat the early morning chill. She could _finally_ get to see Cullen for longer than a few minutes, if he wasn’t stuck in meetings all day. Surely Josephine would understand the delay. Now, if she could just keep herself from sprinting across the battlements like an idiot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Rylen’s men will monitor the situation.” Cullen sighed, focusing on the paperwork in front of him. He knew he was behind, had been for days. Ever since Regan had gone into hiding, he’d had trouble concentrating. And when they’d brought her back and he didn’t know if she’d survive, he’d been all but useless. If it hadn’t been for Cassandra and Blackwall, he’d be buried under even _more_ work right now. And the troops were talking; he knew there was no way around that. He’d even heard some of them. The more outlandish tended to claim the commander had been seduced by a desire demon, though some of the men had been quick to point out that if he _had,_ she would have looked more like the Inquisitor, not the blonde stranger.

“In the meantime, we’ll send soldiers to –.” Cullen heard the door open and faltered, almost afraid it was her after everything that had happened. He felt his chest tighten as he watched her slip in, a nervous smile on her lips. He noticed a few of the troops glancing over their shoulders, actually smiling when they noticed it was her. His eyes met hers momentarily, thought he saw her smile brighten before pulling his gaze back to the paperwork and his soldiers. “… to assist with the relief effort,” he finally finished. He risked a glance back at the door, relieved to see her still standing there, wrapped in a simple furred cloak. Maker, how he’d missed her.

She watched silently, nodding to any of the troops who happened to look her way before meeting his eyes, trying to be reassuring. She wasn’t going anywhere this time. She still couldn’t believe how she’d behaved … how much like a child she’d acted. All because she was too ready to believe he _might_ be like the others, even when she had plenty of evidence to the contrary. Andraste take her, she’d missed him … so much her heart ached.

“That will be all.” He _finally_ dismissed his soldiers, following behind as they filed out the door. A few gave her encouraging smiles as they passed, and one even whispered a faint thank you as he exited. When the last finally left the room, Cullen closed the door, resting his forehead against the wood. He sighed, trying to find the words … to apologize _again_ for not being more suspicious of the woman … to say everything he wanted … _needed_ to say.

“Wishing we were somewhere else?” she whispered, reaching over to rest a hand on his arm. She wasn’t sure what to say, really. They’d talked about what had happened … but there was still much to say, and she couldn’t figure out how to say it. She’d been a fool and they both knew it, jumping to conclusions and not talking to him about it. She’d been so surprised by the surge of jealousy … the anger … the hurt … that she hadn’t known what to do, and obviously wasn’t thinking straight.

His soft laughter tickled her ears as he reached up to brush gloved fingers across her cheek. “As long gas we were together ….” His voice faltered, trailing away as he gazed into her eyes for what felt like the first time in days. “I barely found time to get away before,” he muttered, eyes drifting to her lips. He watched as her tongue darted out, barely moistening them before her bottom lip became pinned between teeth. He inhaled deeply, swallowing the growl that formed as the smell of peppermint filled him. Maybe it was silly, but Maker how he’d missed that smell. Needing a little distance from that intoxicating scent, he pushed away, paced toward his desk. “This war won’t last forever,” he muttered. “When it started, I hadn’t considered much beyond our survival. But … after everything ….” He glanced down at his desk, fingering the random stacks of parchment before looking back at her. “things are … different now.”

“What do you mean?” Regan asked, moving to stand next to his desk. She glanced away, wondering if her behavior … if her running away had convinced him to change his mind … if all the time he’d had while Gabriel kept them apart had him reconsidering his feelings for her. “I’m so sorry, Cullen.” Her voice was shaky, barely above a whisper. She hadn’t noticed him remove his gloves, but the touch of his skin against her cheek brought her eyes back to him in an instant. “I should have just _talked_ to you about it.”

He bit back a moan as her lips grazed the heel of his hand. “It’s alright,” he whispered, gut clenching again. “As I said, I would have not handled myself much better were our situations reversed.” He trailed his thumb over her lips, shivering as her tongue slipped out to tickle against his skin. He cleared his throat, couldn’t stop himself from nervously licking his lips. “I, um … found myself thinking ... while we were … you were recuperating ….” He saw a flash of what might have been fear cross her face and hurried on. “When this is over … when we no longer have the Breach and Corypheus to worry about … when it’s all over, I … don’t want to move on … not from you.” He continued tracing her lips, her cheek, her jaw, all the while feeling his insides knot up as he watched her, waited for a response.

She said nothing, just watched him through heavy-lidded eyes. She could feel her heart beat in her throat, gut twisting in nervous little knots. She chewed on her lip, watching him as he watched her. She wanted to reassure him, tell him what she wanted … how she wanted to stay with _him_ , Inquisition or no. She just didn’t know how.

“But I … I don’t know what you … that is, if you, um ….” He couldn’t’ get the words out … not the ones he really wanted. He knew _what_ he wanted to say … to ask, especially after everything that had gone on the last few days; he wanted to show her that he wanted no one else. But, he wanted … _needed_ to know that she wanted the same things, wanted to stay with him … or if this was just a way to … pass the time until Corypheus was dealt with. Would she leave him then? Or did she think about possibly staying – with the Inquisition … with him? Why couldn’t he find the words? Frustrated with himself and overly nervous about any response he might get, he leaned on his desk, praying he didn’t collapse.

She quietly slipped over, moving to first nudge against his arm, then between him and the desk when he moved it out of her way. She watched as he shifted, shuffling his feet nervously before resting his hand back on the desk so they framed her hips. “I’m here now,” she whispered, reaching up to brush her fingers along his cheek. “I’m here, and I’m not going _anywhere_ if I can help it. Do I need to grovel for your forgiveness?” She tried to ignore the thumping of her heart as she looked up at him.

“I suppose not.” Cullen’s voice came out in a soft growl as his gaze locked on her lips. He leaned in, eyes fluttering closed as his lips met hers. He could feel her shift, scooting back onto the desk for a more secure seat. Perhaps he should have straightened his desk, removed the stacks of parchment? He reached for her, wanting to touch her, hold her. He slipped an arm around her, sliding beneath her cloak, pulled her to him before he brought his other hand around to undo her cloak and toss it to the side. He loosened his hold, let her scoot back to the desk again, moaning as he saw the strange knotted ropes of the antaam-saar beneath it. He leaned in, felt her shift as he moved his lips to her throat, fingertips tickling along her bared stomach, followed by the crashing of glass. He pulled back, eyes flew open and stared … first at her, then down at the shattered bottle, then back to her, and something snapped. With a near predatory grin, he stepped back, pulling her with him, and _shoved_ everything from the desk’s surface. Papers went flying, glasses shattered, books tumbled to the floor, and he found he didn’t care one bit.

She felt her entire body grow warm beneath his gaze, swallowed nervously before reaching for that damned furred collar he always had around his face, and pulled him to her. Her lips met his with a clack of teeth and a sharp intake of breath. They broke apart when she needed air and Regan found herself scooting, shifting so she could lay back, prop herself up on her elbows. Her stomach knotted, heat pooling in her gut and between her thighs as she watched him crawl over her. “Cullen,” she whispered, reaching up to guide his lips back to hers.

He grinned against those perfect lips, loving how she already sounded so desperate for his touch, how it mirrored his own need. Maker, she was just … so … perfect. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he moved away from her lips, kissed his way along her jaw and down her throat. He slid a knee between her legs , nudging them apart as strong fingers moved surprisingly carefully, first tracing the crisscross of rope over her chest, then moving to find the point holding them on. “You … wore this … for me?” Lips brushed against skin in the squares formed by the pattern, fingers shaking as he still searched for the clasp or knot.

An attempt at a giggle turned into a soft moan as her head fell back, chest pushed upwards. “I seem … to remember ….” Another moan cut off any attempt at a response, breaking her concentration when his lips dropped down to tease at a nipple through the fabric. “… remember that you … found it …. AH!” She tried again, only to be cut off as he found the trappings that secured the so-called chest piece in place. As soon as the fabric fell, his lips claimed a nipple again, tongue and teeth teasing the already sensitive flesh.

He chuckled against her skin, feeling fingers slip in, clutch at his hair. He kissed his way across to her other breast, loving every whimper and moan he could coax out of her. “Arousing,” he supplied, eventually kissing his way back up her throat. Her answering nod, accompanied by another moan, brought a surge of … Maker, what feeling _was_ this? She had, after _everything_ that had gone on … she had worn _this_ because he had found it … enticing. Emitting a sound somewhere between a growl and a moan, he attacked her lips, grinding his thigh against her, leaning over to cover her, cool armor pressing against her skin.

Andraste’s ass … his lips, his tongue … he was setting her ablaze with just a few touches. She tugged at his collar, tried to maneuver even the slightest bit of armor off. Rolling her hips, grinding against his thigh, she wanted to feel _him_ , touch _him_. “Cullen,” she whimpered, desperate. “I need … I _want_ … _please._ ”

“What do you need, love?” Warm breath caressed her ear as he purred the simple question. One hand gripped her hip, pulled her close as he ground against her, his swiftly hardening erection still mostly hidden beneath his armor. “Tell me what you want.” The hand at her hip started tugging at the waist of her trousers, eager to feel … to touch even more of her.

“You,” she breathed, trying to find any buckle or strap she could. Andraste’s tits, she wanted him out of that armor. “I _need_ you, Cullen.”

“Not yet,” he chuckled, kissing his way back down her throat, her chest, her stomach. He fought back a whimper of his own when he had to remove his leg from the warmth of her thighs, though it was soon replaced by a moan when he was able to pull her trousers down, pausing only long enough to remove her boots, then toss everything aside. He shrugged free from his surcoat, passing it up to her to use as a pillow of sorts. He could feel tiny scars littering her skin, remnants of attacks where she hadn’t been quite fast enough, as he ran his fingers along her legs, lifting them slowly over his shoulders.. “Beautiful,” he whispered, eyes traveling along her form until he met her nervous gaze. “You are _so_ beautiful,” he repeated before brushing kisses along her inner thigh. Higher and higher, his lips moved along her skin, teeth nipping occasionally until his cheek brushed against a patch of wet curls.

She inhaled sharply, hands curling into fists, thumping against his desk. He was so close … teasing a finger along her lips. She heard him breathe her name, caught a glimpse of his eyes – almost nothing but black visible in his heated gaze. She noticed his smile … that smug grin he wore whenever he won at chess or left her wanting more after meeting on the battlements. She watched as he leaned down, all but his eyes disappearing from view as he sunk between her legs. Warm breath tickled her skin; she squirmed, searching for _any_ contact. Then, it started … a long, slow drag of the tongue over her lips, strong muscle delving between briefly, lapping at the wetness already pooling before flicking against the bundle of nerves nestled at the apex.

The moan that he earned spurred him on, making the confines of his armor near painful. But he wanted to relish this … this first, wanted to put into deeds all he kept failing to find words for. A few more passes of his tongue, teasing … tasting her. Andraste take him, she was wonderful. He heard her gasp as a finger slid in, pumping slowly, had her hands whip down to grasp at his hair.

“Maker’s ass, Cullen,” she gasped, hips rising to meet his lips, his tongue. “Don’t … _please_ don’t stop.” She’d _never_ felt like this before … never had anyone on their knees, touching her _there_. “Oh, _yes!_ Like that!” Sure, she’d had sex before … not _much_ , but she’d had a tumble with a boy or two, but none had ever made her feel like _this_. She wanted to watch … wanted to see his face … his eyes as he feasted on her, but as a second finger slid in, her head fell back, eyes squeezed shut. She was already … “So … close, Cullen.”

Cullen doubled his efforts, fingers thrusting, lips suckling, tongue dancing against that sensitive nub. Every shift of her hips made him moan. Every touch of his tongue or finger made her gasp. This had to be heaven. “Come for me, love,” he growled before returning to work. “I want to hear you … I want _everyone_ to hear.”

And she did. Tumbling over the edge, she fell back against the desk, body arching as she screamed his name. Fingers tugged at his hair, holding him in place, not that he planned on moving just then. He grinned against her, drinking in her response, loving every breath … every whimper … every moan.

“Commander, I was on my way to see if you had seen my sister, and the guards outside reported … screaming from … your … office?” One of the doors swung open, letting Gabriel stroll in, not noticing the pair at first, though his gaze was soon drawn to them. He quickly turned his head, making a concentrated effort _not_ to look at his sister, who was currently scrambling to cover herself with Cullen’s surcoat and making embarrassed noises. “That is certainly more of my sister than I thought I’d ever see.” He did his best to give Cullen an amused grin without _seeing_ anything further, heading back for the door. “I’ll just … advise the guards … that everything is … fine, yes? I _would_ suggest locking the doors next time, though.” Without waiting for an answer, he left, pulling the door shut behind him.

Cullen couldn’t decide if he was more embarrassed about being caught or pleased that he’d brought her to the point where the guards could hear. And surprisingly, the interruption did _nothing_ to dampen the ardor he felt; his cock was still straining in its confines. “Do you … wish to continue this … perhaps in the loft?” He struggled to keep his voice steady, to hide the fact that he still _so_ wanted her; he didn’t want to influence her answer.

Clutching the furred collar to her, Regan nodded, biting her lip as she stared at him. She’d make Gabriel pay for interrupting later, but Maker’s breath, she wanted _more_. “Cullen, if you do not lock those doors and take me, I will _never_ forgive you.” She couldn’t believe she was saying something like _that_ ; she’d never even contemplated saying that to _anyone_ before. But here she was, wanting _him_ , wanting to feel him inside her … with more than just fingers and tongue. “I swear to the Maker, Cullen, I _want_ you … I want your … your cock … inside me. I want ….” She flushed, looking away momentarily. “I want _you_ , love.”

His cock twitched at her words, an already painful erection growing more intense. He swallowed thickly, shoving away from the desk to all but run to the first door. “Get up that ladder,” he growled, wondering how he got so lucky; why the Maker had deemed him worthy of such a woman. “And I will make sure everyone in Skyhold knows you are mine.” He watched her scramble from the desk to the ladder and up before swiftly locking the other two doors and shedding every bit of that uncomfortable armor, leaving just the linen tunic and trousers. The climb up was made awkward by clothing made tight in places, but he didn’t care; the rewards would be worth it.

  
****************************************************************************************************

“No. Leave me. _Leave me_!”

Regan rolled over in time to see Cullen bolt upright, sheets flying away from him. Sweat beaded on his forehead, started trickling along his temple, chest jerked with gasping breaths. She could see outright panic in his eyes. “Cullen?” What time was it? What was wrong? Where was she? Wait … it was still dark, the middle of the night. She was in Cullen’s loft, snuggled comfortably in his bed. She reached out, rested a hand on his arm, ignored the falling sheet as she sat. “Bad dream?” she whispered, rubbing her hand gently along his spine. Surely he wasn’t telling her to leave, was he?

His eyes fluttered shut, breathing slowed as he focused on the feel of her hand against his skin. He was awake, in his room at Skyhold – not the tower, not Kirkwall. He was safe, with _her_ – no demons, no blood mages, no magic save her touch, her smile. “They always are,” he groaned. “Without lyrium, they’re worse.” He sat in silence for a moment, just letting the feel of her skin against his calm him. When the final bits of the nightmare had slipped away, he relaxed, returned his head to his pillow. He looked at her, saw little lines etched into her face as her brows furrowed in concern. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.” His hand drifted to her cheek, thumb stroking gently against her skin. Maker, how had he gotten lucky enough to share those earlier moments with her? Please say he hadn’t somehow just ruined it.

She smiled, shifting into a more comfortable position. She leaned into his touch and made a noise that sounded a bit like a purr. Her fingers moved, drifted to trace a line through the evaporating sweat on his brow, then slipped into his hair, stroking gently. “You can let me worry about you a little, you know.” She smiled reassuringly as she leaned over to brush her lips against his.

He laughed into the kiss, something not unwelcome stirring again as he watched her pull back slightly before he laid back down. “Alright,” he murmured, stroking a finger along her ear and down his throat. He couldn’t believe someone like _her_ was here, in his bed … in his _life_ , with him. After everything he’d done, been through … that there was someone who didn’t see him as the broken man he saw in the mirror …. “You are … I have _never_ felt anything like this.” Why couldn’t he just _tell_ her everything he felt? Why wouldn’t the words come?

Regan looked at him for a moment, watched as his face finally softened into a content smile. She reached out, gently took his hand, brought it to her lips. Kissing his knuckles gently, she couldn’t help herself. She’d had something to tell him for so long, been afraid to say it for too long. Sure, she’d said it when they had been in her room, but it needed repeating when they weren’t worried about her recovery. “I love you,” she mouthed wordlessly. Wait, there was supposed to be sound there. Ignoring the confused look on his face, she took a breath, leaned down, body pressing against his warmth. She brought her lips to his ear, nuzzling just above as she whispered, “I love you. You know that, right?”

Cullen froze, eyes widened. He could feel every bit of her against him, but that wasn’t the cause. Her breath against his ear tickled; he could feel her heart beat against him. His gut clenched, heart stopped. She had really said that, hadn’t she? She said she loved him, right? He hadn’t been dreaming that, had he? He finally managed to get his brain, his body working. “Could … could you repeat that?” he mumbled, trying to reassure himself. When she said she loved him, louder this time, he saw the most beautiful, sincere smile he’d ever seen, and could have died happily right there. “I love you, too.” He’d said it. He’d finally admitted what he’d known since he’d assured her father that he did; something he’d been thinking about since that first game of chess. “I cannot find the words to express just how much I love you, Regan.”

She bit her lip and tried not to fall to pieces. She’d never imagined anyone could make her feel so … she didn’t even know the right word. It was more than just special – she felt wanted, cherished, desired, loved … everything she thought she’d never find. She slid her hand down, along his cheek, traced along his jaw and throat, tickled over his chest. “Show me,” she whispered, bringing her lips back to his.

“But … aren’t we due to ride out today? Something about fittings in Val Royeaux?” He couldn’t believe he was actually asking that. What man in his right mind would say that with the woman he loved kissing him, naked in his bed? He groaned as she moved to nibble at his ear, body pressing against his, hand moving over his stomach and lower.

“I’m taking the day off,” she purred, suckling at a sensitive spot just below his ear. “The Orlesians can wait. I’m sure there’s some … thing … someone … far more important that needs to be … attended to.”

He felt her fingers wrap around his already half-hard shaft, and any thought of stopping fled his mind. He moaned, pulled her against him. “Good,” he growled, twisting to capture her mouth with his. “Now, come here, Inquisitor. I believe I might just know someone that … requires … attention.”


End file.
